Warning: Do Not Piss Off the Mama Lioness

There are three constants in life that make my claws come out:  1)  Bad drivers; 2) People who hold full conversations with me without ever making eye contact; and 3)  Servers who try to take my margarita glass before I’m done with my drink.

On our vacation, however, I discovered there is something that not only makes the claws come out, but also fills me with an overwhelming urge to insert them into a certain person’s eyeballs — that person being a stranger talking sh*t about my child.

We were at a restaurant grazing on shrimp appetizers and enjoying the ocean view — don’t pity us too much — when Miss Skye, overcome with happiness, as she was so many times during our trip, grabbed my face and gave me a kiss.  Her kisses have evolved from the original open-mouthed dive to a plant-my-mouth-on-your-cheek-and-kinda-nibble technique that evokes memories of my first real make-out session in the movie theater where Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was playing.  Only Miss Skye is much cuter, more innocent and less sloppy than that braces-clad amateur kisser.

These nibbles can be painful, but they’re not bites.  Vampire Baby has bitten me on the shoulder, on the arm and on the neck, so I know what her bites feel like.  Like, OUCH.  They leave a mark.  I think they’re Skye’s way of marking her territory.  Because if I so much as glance at another baby, she screams and shoots me a look that says, I will not hesitate to pee on you, woman, if that’s what it takes. It’s very similar to the look her father gives me on my way out the door for a girls’ night out.

These nibbles, on the other hand, are just Skye’s way of feeling out this kissing nonsense.  Let’s face it:  the ability to properly pucker up isn’t innate.  In fact, some people never figure it out.  Mr. Candy estimates Skye will finally be prepared to kiss a boy in about forty years.  Give or take a decade.

As I extracted my little nibbler from my face, I saw a woman at the table next to us gesturing wildly and glancing over at us every, oh, three seconds or so.

…And then she BIT HER CHEEK!

I could hear the woman declaring this to her fellow diner clear as day.  As though she wanted me to hear her.

If I had a child, I would never stand for that.

That’s right.   I was a bad mother because I embraced my daughter’s bumbling shows of affection.  But I think I deserved some positive mommy points for only visualizing giving the woman the finger, rather than actually giving it to her.  Right?

If Skylar had just turned her head, I totally would have given the woman the finger.

Not wanting to make a scene (clearly, I was sober), I pointedly stared at the woman instead.  I’d like to think my piercing gaze effectively conveyed my message:  a powerful combination of Seriously?  I AM SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO YOU, YOU IDIOT! and I will not hesitate to pee on you, woman, if you talk about my child again.